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My vagina’s seen worse.

So about a month ago I got some jolting news. I recently touched upon the topic of my vanishing periods but what I left out was the terror that went along with it. I had convinced myself that I was barren and that my period had given up on me and the idea that I would ever grow up and have children. Mean. So I had blood tests done and missed the call when the results were in. It took me weeks to gather the nerve to call for them and when I finally got it up couldn’t get in touch with my doctor for anything. Finally I got her to call me back and she said my blood tests came back normal. Which was a two second sigh of relief since she almost in the same breath told me that my recent pap had not been normal and that they would have to perform a biopsy to be sure I didn’t have cervical cancer. I cried a lot, everyone thought I was being silly and overreacting. They all said it was no big deal and that it’s super common and usually means nothing. Either way… no one likes to hear the words cancer from a doctor. I was fucking scared.

Thankfully I belong to the worst gynecologist practice ever and I had to wait an entire month before the actual biopsy would occur. It gave me plenty of time to procrastinate away my health and to build up an indestructible wall of fear.

When the time finally came I was standing in the room where a portion of my cervix would meet its ultimate demise, I looked up towards the computer monitor when the previous occupants cervix was waving hello to me on the screen. Nice. Very professional, at least it gave me a decent chuckle.

And then 25 minutes into shaking naked draped in a tissue paper apron my doctor had finally emerged. Here we go, the main event I’d been waiting for. The nurse was shocked that I had reached 25-years without having had one of these procedures done about a dozen times… so apparently it’s more common than I thought. Every step was explained to me and I was introduced to all the instruments and liquids… my favorite being the jug labeled “acid”. AWESOME! You could imagine the back-flips my vagina was performing.

Also for an added bonus my usual gynecologist doesn’t perform these procedures, she’s pretty much useless for anything that isn’t yelling at me at the reception desk or treating me like a whore while annually adding in extra VD tests because she’s appalled that Terrence and I aren’t married but still choose to solely rely on birth control as our only contraceptive. Nearly 5 years and a promise of forever mean nothing to her without a ring. Cunt. What was my point? OH! So I had to have a gentleman gyno do this procedure. When I was a little girl I saw The Hand That Rocks The Cradle and have since never trusted male doctors of any kind. I’m almost certain he fondled something when the nurse wasn’t looking… that pig. Actually he was kind of awesome. Much better at the whole bedside manner thing than that regular cunt of mine. He talked to me and joked around to put me at ease, he asked about Terrence and we had a discussion about our plans to not get married but remain as we are, I told him about when I jokingly said no to Terrence after his third proposal and he agreed with my being too young to be married and applauded our relationship dedication. No judgment, it was nice… made me rethink my hatred of male doctors a little.

Once the small talk was over and the walk through began I had to find my power animal and focus on anything but the pain. The actual cutting of my cervix wasn’t all that bad, unpleasant but nothing a deep breath couldn’t handle. What was horrible though was the application of the clotting agent. My power animal was failing me at this point, as was my breathing. He said I would feel a bit of cramping but it felt more like I was about to birth a child or something, it was terrible. It took a whole lot of strength not to jerk my body away from this evil sadist and scream for him to get out of me. At this point I felt everything, the speculum that was stretching me out more than I’d ever been and the swabs swishing back and forth with that bullshit liquid. I was fighting back the tears as he began to remove all instruments of torture and clean up.

As I stood to dress I couldn’t help but tremble with the aftershock of pain. A bit of cramping my ass. When I ran out to Terrence in the waiting room I wanted to wrap my arms around him and cry, I felt like Penny in Dirty Dancing after that traumatic abortion. I couldn’t wait to get out of there so I could stop being brave and just cry. I never did though. I got over it in a few minutes and an hour or so later the crampquakes subsided.

I’m beginning to question if I’ll ever be able to one day achieve a natural child birth if I can’t even handle a cervical biopsy.